


Feryn Smith vs. Oscar Wilde's Terrible Taste in Men

by Aces_and_Roses



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, mentions of bad dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 19:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aces_and_Roses/pseuds/Aces_and_Roses
Summary: Feryn didn’t make his own plans when Wilde was going on a date anymore. No, that was a lesson he’d learned the hard way after having to walk out on no less than ten different get-togethers, including but not limited to: lunch with Zolf, movies with friends, even one of his own dates (though why he had been so willing to leave during those rare occasions he didn’t realize until much later, after he’d finally learned the meaning of the term ‘aromantic’).





	Feryn Smith vs. Oscar Wilde's Terrible Taste in Men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blacksatinpointeshoes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksatinpointeshoes/gifts).

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CONNOR!  
Working title: _Make it HAPPY, Goddammit_

Feryn didn’t make his own plans when Wilde was going on a date anymore. No, that was a lesson he’d learned the hard way after having to walk out on no less than ten different get-togethers, including but not limited to: lunch with Zolf, movies with friends, even one of his own dates (though why he had been so willing to leave during those rare occasions he didn’t realize until much later, after he’d finally learned the meaning of the term ‘aromantic’).

And sure, just because Wilde texted him didn’t mean that he _had_ to go help him out, it wasn’t like it was something they’d agreed upon beforehand (in fact, they’d never even discussed it. Wilde had just texted him one day out of the blue and Feryn had come running), but Feryn was hardly the kind of person to ignore an ‘SOS’ text from a friend. So, given that he wasn’t willing to just ignore Wilde when he asked for a bailout, but he also didn’t want to keep rudely walking out on people, there was nothing much to be done except to just… not do anything, on those days. It wasn’t even that inconvenient, if Feryn was being honest (though he would never admit it; he got far too much enjoyment from playing up his annoyance at Wilde’s interruptions to do that), it wasn’t like Wilde went out every night or anything. Overall, Feryn wasn’t actually that bothered by it.

At least, he wasn’t bothered by the way Wilde kept interrupting his Great British Bake Off (which is a perfectly good show, Zolf, just because you don’t like fun-) marathons. What he _was _bothered by, however, was the fact that Wilde had to interrupt them at all. And not only that, but that he seemed to need saving from almost every single date he’d ever told Feryn he was going on.

Seriously. Feryn knew Wilde’s taste in men was questionable at best, but he hadn’t thought it was _that_ bad.

Now, Feryn and Wilde weren’t the kind of friends that typically had heart-to-hearts; both of them were much more comfortable tossing joking insults back and forth than talking about their feelings. But after almost half a year of Feryn constantly having to save Wilde from his bad dates, which were to all appearances the only kinds of dates he went on, Feryn was getting fed up (and worried, though he would never say that). They needed to have a talk, a real one.

That would have been a challenge for anyone but Feryn. But the thing was, Feryn had grown up with Zolf as a little brother. Zolf, who was probably one of the most stubborn people on the planet, particularly when it came to talking about feelings of any sort. So if Feryn could convince _Zolf_ of all people to talk about his feelings (which he had, on multiple occasions. He was a good brother, what could he say?) then he could certainly convince Wilde.

Though, perhaps _convince_ wasn’t the best word for what he was going to be doing. Pester was probably more accurate, considering what he was planning.

“Wil- Oscar.” Feryn said as he casually (oh so casually) entered Wilde’s room, closing the door behind him. Wilde’s gaze snapped from the laptop in front of him toward Feryn, his brows furrowed at the use of his first name. “We need to talk.”

And look, Feryn wasn’t going to enjoy this any more than Wilde was, but the quickly stifled expression of absolute and utter terror on Wilde’s face was a little unnecessary, thank you very much.

“Must we?” Wilde responded dryly. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“‘Fraid so.” Feryn levelled him with an unimpressed look, pointedly leaning back against the door (the only way out of the room, unless Wilde felt like jumping out a second story window). There was no way for Wilde to get out of this, not before Feryn had said everything he needed to.

“Oscar, you, uh…” This was always the most difficult part; figuring out _how_ to say what he needed to without making Wilde defensive. If he did that, Wilde wouldn’t listen to anything else he said, no matter how good his points were. “You have terrible taste in men.”

Wilde’s expression hardened as he turned his chair to look at Feryn directly, though he didn’t make a sound beyond a quiet “Hm,” (which somehow conveyed his annoyance better than any amount of words could, damn him).

Okay, that was not what he’d wanted to say _at all_. Not the best start. But it was fine; he could salvage this.

Somehow.

“You can’t say you don’t.” Wilde opened his mouth to protest, but Feryn plowed on, “I’ve had to come save you from bad dates _four times_ in the last two months. And those were the only dates you went on, might I add. It’s not-” Feryn hesitated, unsure if he should bring up exactly how unhealthy that seemed; mentioning anything along those lines was always a surefire way to make Wilde shut down for the rest of the conversation. Possibly the rest of the week.

He didn’t need to worry about that, however, because Wilde spoke up. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken on that count, since those weren’t, in fact, the only dates I’ve gone on as of late.”

Now, that wasn’t how Feryn had been expecting this conversation to go, certainly. For all his experience getting stubborn people to talk through things they didn’t want to, that didn’t mean that he was usually very good at it. All it meant was that he had a stubborn streak too, and wouldn’t let the topic go until the other person finally got frustrated and gave up. So needless to say, Wilde offering up this information (any information, frankly) this early in the conversation was… not typical, in the slightest. Feryn wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“They were the only dates you told me about,” Feryn replied, narrowing his eyes slightly, putting on a show of skepticism, despite the fact that he fully believed Wilde wasn’t lying to get Feryn to leave him alone. Not with the way he was fidgeting slightly as he sat (not enough for most people to notice, but Feryn wasn’t most people; he’d known Wilde for long enough, and knew him well enough by this point to recognize his tells, however few of them there were).

Wilde leaned back in his chair, the very picture of nonchalance, except for the way his foot tapped on the floor, just once, as he did so. “I’m not obligated to tell you _every_ time I go out, after all.”

It was good to know, at least, that Wilde’s taste in men wasn’t actually as bad as Feryn had feared. Still, he bristled, because while Wilde wasn’t technically wrong, they’d _talked about this_, and Wilde apparently thought it was fine to just ignore the agreement they’d come to. “Wilde, we’ve talked about this; it isn’t-”

“Yes, yes,” Wilde said, waving his hand dismissively in Feryn’s direction, “safety, all that. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know.”

“That’s not the point-” Feryn began, trailing off as he watched Wilde adjust his position in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest (not defensively, or at least not in a way that would be noticeable to other people); he wasn’t going to get any further with this argument. They’d probably just go around in circles for hours, without getting in any way closer to a resolution. No, he needed to come up with something else. “Fine. Why tell me about any of them, then, if you think your privacy is so much more important than safety?”

Wilde huffed out an annoyed breath, which had been exactly what Feryn was going for; an annoyed Wilde was a candid Wilde. Well, not... candid, exactly, but Feryn knew whenever he got Wilde annoyed enough he stopped thinking through what he said before he said it. It was the best way to get him to tell Feryn something he didn’t want to (and while, yes, in the past he’d used it for blackmail, this time his intentions were noble! Mostly). “I wanted you to be ready to bail me out, obviously.”

“Then why not tell me about all of them?” Feryn responded, fighting down the urge grin as Wilde glared daggers at him.

“I didn’t want you always waiting up for me!” Feryn saw the exact moment Wilde realized what he'd said, what he'd _admitted to_, snapping his jaw shut, his eyes widening just a fraction. “I mean, no, I just-”

It was already too late; Feryn had heard it, and he wasn’t about to let it go (not when it gave him so much _material_ to work with). He gasped overdramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Why, Oscar, that almost makes it sound like you _care_ about me!”

“N-_no_, you’re just insufferable when I take too much of your time, is all.”

Feryn walked over to where Wilde was sinking progressively further into his chair as the seconds passed. “Be still, my beating heart! Wilde, Oscar Wilde, cares for me! He doesn’t want to inconvenience me, because he _cares_ for me!”

“Oh, shut up,” was Wilde’s only reply.

Leaning down, Feryn mussed up Wilde’s hair with one hand, grinning at the affronted noise he made in response. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Can’t have people thinking you have _emotions_, right?”

Wilde groaned, batting Feryn’s hand away so he could (try to) fix the mess his hair had become. “Get _out_, Feryn,” he practically hissed, swatting at Feryn again with his free hand when he tried to mess with his hair further.

Feryn chuckled, backing away with his hands up non-threateningly. “Fine, fine.” He kept his eyes firmly on Wilde’s disgruntled form until he’d pulled the door open and left the room, taking a moment to quickly duck back in and stage-whisper, “You _care_,” before having to slam the door shut to avoid the pen Wilde threw at his head. Even with the door closed, he could hear Wilde grumbling in annoyance.

Wilde was okay, then.

That was good to know.


End file.
